Halo: 7th Hell
by Jei Tzu
Summary: A novelization of Halo: 2. Includes story arcs starring Will, Fred, Kelly and Linda, and a look at Tartarus' past. Read and Review, please.
1. Prologue

_**Halo: Seventh Hell**_

Prologue 

_Covenant Holy City _High Charity_, 2 Units after destruction of the Sacred Ring_

The Supreme Commander of the Fleet of Particular Justice was dragged down the corridor aboard the Holy City. He was carried between two heavy-set Brutes, their huge furry bodies rippling as they carried him towards the ever-growing triangle of light at the end of the passage. Not that the Commander could see much, as a third Brute blocked his vision. He was Tartarus, Chieftain of the Brutes, and the new right hand man of the Prophet of Truth, a position only recently vacated by the Commander. This was but the first of the many humiliations the proud Elite would suffer. The second was upon him in seconds, as he was dragged onto a raised platform and chained to a v-frame that suspended his legs above the ground.

As he craned his neck down, he took into account the hundreds, possibly thousands of Covenant warriors arrayed before him. Most of them were crewmembers in the fleet he commanded, he spotted a few of the senior officers immediately. Previously when they'd looked at the tall Elite, their faces had been full of respect. Scorn was all the Commander saw now. Tartarus, who appeared to be enjoying himself, walked around to the Commander's right, as his two henchmen withdrew to a safe distance.

"Are you ready for this, Commander?" The towering Brute sneered, before driving a huge fist into the Commander's midriff.

Below him, the Covenant warriors roared, baying for the blood of their old leader, the man responsible for the destruction of the Holy Ring, at the hands of the blasted Devil-Human, the last of his broken kind. Tartarus struck him again, this time his head taking the full brunt of the muscular alien's assault. Tartarus' next blow was aimed at the Commander's neck, but instead of the blow hitting home, it stopped inches from the Elite's skin. He thought, for an instant, that the humiliation would be over. But instead, the huge Brute tore the Commander's black chestplate off. This exerted a howl of despair from the Elite, as Tartarus hurled the piece of steel to the baying hoards below.

If looks could kill, the black look that the Commander threw the Brute would have killed him three times over. The Brute was impressive to look at, a towering mass of dark fur and rippling muscle, with a wild white Mohawk on top. He roared at the crowd, before launching into a speech intended to make them even more pissed off at the Elite then they already were. Great, thought the Commander.

"Brave warriors of the Covenant!" Hollered Tartarus. "We are here today to witness the punishment of this… wretch…" Tartarus stopped talking to punch the Commander in the face, and rip his helm from his head "… for failing to protect the Sacred Ring from the human's sacrilegious Demon!" The Brute paused to give an almighty roar, which would have been ear splitting enough without thousands of Covenant joining in. "For this…" Another fist smacked into the Commander's chest. "You are being stripped of your rank. No longer are you The Supreme Commander of the Fleet of Particular Justice!"

The ex-Commander knew it had been coming, but the words still struck him like the rear end of a Brute Shot. His reverie was broken as one of Tartarus' lackeys punched him in the groin, before ripping off his right leg armour, with another Brute doing the same to his left leg. He wondered if Tartarus was going to knock him out in public, of inflict some more grievous injuries before hauling him off to High Charity's diverse range of detainment cells. Yeah, right. A Brute kicked him, but Tartarus was busy continuing his lecture to the range of Covenant creatures. The Elite missed the first part, but it was ending when he returned his attention to the monster. "…fools. Let this serve as a reminder for the rest of you! Dishonour the Prophet's name, and you shall be punished in the same way as this vermin!"

The Elite thought Tartarus was finished, but he drew a deep breath. "This rat should be killed, but an intervention by a Prophet means that he will continue service under the Covenant." Tartarus hefted a Brute Shot from where it was leant against a wall. The weapon was basically a frag-grenade launcher, with a huge blade attached to the rear end. He swung the blade towards the chained Elite, shearing the manacles and allowing the naked creature to drop to the floor. "Ragnorak, Darantek, take him to the Mausoleum of the Arbiter." Tartarus growled, and two powerfully built Brutes grabbed the broken Elite and dragged him down the corridor they had arrived from.

The mangled alien's brain was suffering from a minor concussion, due to one of the Brute's blows to his head, and made little sense of his journey through the winding corridors of the Holy City. Indeed, all his eyes seemed to send him were blurred pictures, mixtures of purple and brown. He shut his eyes, eager to be away from the hell which his injuries had left him in. That the ones who had caused his injuries had left him in. That the Brutes had left him in. That Tartarus had left him in. His anger towards the Brute was huge, but he concealed it, as his ears picked up a roar from one of his escorts.

"Get Up."

The Elite complied. A breastplate clicked into place over his shoulders, and he heard a clack from lower down as his leg armour was fastened on. A helmet was left on a pedestal for him to put on himself. He did so. The Brute called Ragnorak sneered evilly, knocking his head against the pedestal and throwing him over his shoulder. As the battered Elite finally lost consciousness, he heard the Brute snarl one last line.

"Warriors of the Covenant, I give you the Arbiter, Blade of the Prophets…"


	2. Chapter 1

Section I: EARTH Chapter 1 

_1132 hours, October 1__st__ 2552 (Military Calendar), _Cairo Space Station's Armoury.

The Master Chief stepped out of the elevator and nodded to Sergeant A. J. Johnson who was standing next to him. The towering SPARTAN, who stood in his faded green MJOLNIR armour, dwarfed the 6-foot Marine. Johnson flipped out a music player and plugged the headphones into his ears. Chief grimaced, wondering how the Sergeant could abuse himself with the ridiculously loud 'flip' music.

"Hey!" A voice snapped him out of his reverie. He looked up and spotted a man in uniform, sporting the insignia of a Gunnery Sergeant. "Sir, if you want to be on the bridge in time for the ceremony to begin, you better step this way." The Chief nodded, and stepped in behind the Marine.

The Sergeant asked him to step behind a screen, which the Chief duly did. The Sergeant, whose name was Phil, stepped behind a computer console and began pressing keys.

"Ok… SPARTAN-117, John…" The clicking of the keys continued as Phil calibrated a few bits and bobs on the computer, before asking the Chief to check the armour's orientation sensors. John moved his head around, taking care not to use the exaggerated strength of armour to ill effect. "Alright…" Phil Lanes was an ordinary man, but this was the third time today he'd performed this check; in the early hours of the morning, three of John's SPARTAN companions had checked in. He had memorised the intricate parts of the test, and now performed with a routine smoothness.

John stood on the platform for the best part of five minutes while Phil sorted out any problems within his armour. During these minutes, the AI who resided within the Chief's armour made her presence known.

"Honestly," grumbled Cortana, the 'Smart' AI who looked after all technical aspects of the SPARTAN's armour. "Why can't they let me do it? I know this bucket of bolts upside down! I live in it, after all…" John shushed her as Phil spoke again.

"Ok, Chief. Could you step across to the shield-testing rig for me?"

"Great," muttered Cortana moaned. "This almost always short-circuits me." John could hardly suppress a smile.

The shield-testing rig was a very basic way of testing your shield, armour, or whatever you considered your protection. All it did was hit you with a miniature lightning bolt and you yelled when it hurt. John was pretty sure that his shields didn't need much patching up, after all, the best science experts on earth had checked his shields in Oni's HQ in Sydney, Australia. John stepped onto the platform and braced himself. There was a loud beep, and a bolt of lightning shot from a special turret. It struck the Spartan in the centre of the chest, and almost immediately his shields flashed on, their orange hue protecting him from major damage. Inside his helm, John heard the beeping that meant his shields were depleting rapidly. Finally, the beeping turned into a constant noise and the orange glow his shields offered disappeared.

"Ow." Said John, in a voice totally lacking in emotion.

There was a flash as the lightning gun turned off, and John stepped off the raise and walked towards Phil. Phil was typing at a computer. The Master Chief interrupted him.

"Am I clear?" He asked. Phil nodded.

"Yup, Chief. That armour's in tip-top condition, sir." The marine returned to typing the report as Johnson strolled over. The Chief could hear the insanely loud descendant of 'metal' music boom into the Sergeant's he pulled out the earphones and turned the music off.

"Chief, we're due down on the bridge in 15 minutes." John acknowledged the dark-skinned marine, who wore a cap over his close-cropped black hair, which was only slightly darker than his skin.

There was a beep from the computer, which drew John's attention back to the Gunnery Sergeant, who rose from his seat and smiled at the towering Spartan. The man was of middling height, about five foot eleven, with unkempt fair hair sitting atop his head. He introduced himself.

"Philip Lanes, Gunnery Sergeant, sir!" He said, snapping off a salute. John returned the gesture.

"At ease, soldier." The man returned to his standing position. "Do you want something, soldier?" Asked the Chief, one of his eyes tracking Johnson as he returned to his music.

"Yes, Sir…" stammered Phil, as he tried to find the words to say what he wanted to. "I wondered… are you the one who… you know, went to that ring and came back alive?"

John's mind cast back to the time a few months ago. He had spent the best part of two weeks after the disastrous fall of Reach chasing through slip space too a strange ring world the UNSC dubbed 'Halo'. He'd spent a hellish couple of days onboard the alien construct, during which he'd met the evil Flood Virus, an infectious parasite that latched onto you and took over your brainwaves. Eventually, Halo had been destroyed by Chief and Cortana, who had detonated the engines of a crashed UNSC cruiser, _The Pillar of Autumn_, and wiped out the Flood. As far as he knew, only two men had survived the conflict. Himself and Sergeant A. J. Johnson.

After that, he had captured a Covenant flagship and led a daring first strike against the enemy, rescuing the last of his kind from the burning reach and destroying the Covenant space station, _Unyielding Hierophant_. Eventually, himself, the last three Spartans and Johnson had escaped to Earth, where they had all filed reports about the Flood, and his Spartan teammates about the destruction of Reach. The three last Spartans were currently at Oni HQ, being briefed about a new mission they would be undertaking. _Linda, Will, Fred_. When would he see them again?

The Marine coughed and brought him back to the present. John looked down at him and offered a one-word answer.

"Yes."

"I hate to break up the heart-to-heart," Cortana's sarcastic voice broke through the Chief's helmet's external speakers. "But the Master Chief and Sergeant Johnson are due on the bridge… oh… in five minutes!" Johnson swore, and pulled his headphones out, turned off his music, and sprinted for the elevator. As he got inside, John turned to Phil.

"It was nice meeting you." Any reply the Gunnery Sergeant may have had was cut off as the elevator's doors closed and it raced down towards the command deck. Johnson tapped his foot on the metal floor.

"We're gonna be in some shit if we're late." John nodded, knowing that what the Sergeant said was true. After all, they were meeting an Admiral.

_1159, October 1__st__, 2552 (Military Calendar), _Cairo Space Station's Bridge.

John and Johnson sprinted onto the bridge moments before the ceremony was due to start. Johnson's eyes widened, before he yelled:

"Admiral on deck!" Entering quietly behind them, Fleet Admiral Terrence Hood had made an inconspicuous arrival. Behind him, there was a clunk of feet as everyone stepped to salute. Hood walked up to the Master Chief and Johnson.

"Cutting it a bit fine, aren't we?" smiled the crisp, charismatic Admiral. "At ease, soldiers." The salutes went down as Hood walked past them onto the raised area of the bridge and stood beside a woman, baring the insignia of a commander. John snapped off a salute at her, an example followed by Johnson.

Two minutes later, the Admiral had everyone lined up and ready. He stood on the raised platform, with the station's complement of Marines lining either side of the room. John, Johnson and the female commander stood at the opposite end. Hood stamped his foot to get silence. Any nattering in the room came to a sudden halt.

"We are here to day to reward the brave warriors who survived an Alien killing instrument, not only saving themselves, but also destroying the evil device, and any threat it posed to human life. Sergeant Avery J. Johnson, step forward."

Johnson began the long walk down the room to where the Admiral stood. He stood to attention in front of the imposing, yet frail, man.

"Sergeant Johnson, in recognition for your services to mankind on Halo, I hereby promote you to Sergeant Major." A smattering of applause rippled through the room as Hood pinned a shiny new strip to Johnson's uniform. Johnson saluted again, blushed and turned around, facing the Master Chief and the woman. Hood's voice sounded again. "Master Chief Petty Officer, SPARTAN 117, John, please step forward." John walked forward between the rows of marines, ignoring the incredulous stares that they threw him.

He stopped in front of Hood, and snapped his arm up in Salute. The admiral smiled.

"Master Chief, in recognition of your services to humanity on Halo, I hereby decorate you for your valour." Another round of applause richoted off the walls as Hood pinned a medal to John's chest. The admiral then called for silence. "Of course, John here is only half of the outfit. Congratulations also to the AI, Cortana." More applause as the AI thanked the Admiral on the MJOLNIR armour's external speakers. John took up position beside Johnson. Hood spoke again. "We must, of course also remember our dead. We lost many great men on Halo, but none greater than Captain Jacob Keyes. His daughter, Commander Miranda Keyes, is here with us now. She will be decorated for her father's great composure under pressure, and skill as a commander."

Another, more thunderous, round of applause bounced through the ship. Keyes was famed for his many great space battle victories against the odds. Johnson and the Chief simultaneously grimaced as they remembered the terrible way Captain Keyes had ended. His daughter walked down the row, back straight and face stern as she received her medal. The applause was broken by an amplified voice of a Marine.

"Contact! We have numerous contacts impound for the orbital stations! I repeat contact!"

The jubilant mood aboard the _Cairo_ immediately disappeared as men began shouting orders. Hood turned to Keyes.

"Get to your ship, Commander!" Keyes saluted and disappeared into the throng of soldiers fighting to get ready for the combat. Hood turned to the Chief and Johnson. "What are you two waiting for? Fight!" Johnson nodded, and grinned.

"It's kick-ass time!"


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 

_0800 hours, October 1__st__, 2552 (Military Calendar). UNSC High Command Facility (HighCom) Facility Bravo-6, Sydney, Australia, Earth._

Fred, like many Spartans, felt uncomfortable when he wasn't wearing his armour. Their MJOLNIR battle suits often became more of a home to them than any barracks, and it's many features made them feel exposed without them. Along with this, their lack of exposure to the sun meant that all Spartans looked unnaturally pale, and many would think them freaks of nature without their protective suits. Fred drew along side the other three Spartans who'd survived the Fall of Reach. There was Will, the strong but silent Spartan, always getting his job done with time to spare. And there was Linda, the red haired woman who'd been mortally wounded by the Covenant, only to make a miraculous recovery in Cryo regeneration. Finally, there was Kelly, the Spartan renowned for her incredible speed. All Spartans could run approximately 50 KMPH. Kelly, on the other hand, could run nearer to 60. But she was absent. Kidnapped by her own creator, Dr Catherine Halsey.

Linda was talking to a secretary sitting behind a desk, and looked like she was getting very annoyed. The seven-foot, muscle-ridden Spartan was getting close to blowing her top at the small, blonde woman sitting behind the counter. Behind Linda, Will seemed to be enjoying the events hugely.

"I told you," fumed Linda, who was doing here very best to keep a lid on her anger. "That we are here by appointment of General Strauss, so can you get it into your blonde head that we have got to get through that bloody door!" The gum-chewing secretary, whose nametag suggested she was called Hanna, was new to her job. And in her brief by a very high-ranking admiral called 'Terrence,' she'd been told to keep anyone from entering Section Three without the codes. They didn't have the codes. She vocalised this.

"You don't have the codes." She stated, her southern American twang making her infuriating mannerisms all the more so. Fred, who'd spent most of his life with the other Spartans, could tell that Linda was seriously pissed off. She was doing her very best not to say something insulting, but it crept out anyway…

"Listen, you sodding hillbilly, I…" Linda's mouth began open and closing like a fish as a tall, uniformed man stepped through the door that Fred had just arrived through. There was a scuffling as Will snapped to attention and Fred wheeled round. He saluted the man.

"General Strauss, Sir!"

_1214 Hours, October 1__st__ 2552 (Military Calendar),_ Cairo Space Station's Armoury.

Phil Lanes swore as the familiar beeping of the proximity warning rung through his ears. It was only familiar because of the never-ending, never expected drills. It was usually just annoying: you had to go to the bridge only to be told it's a drill. This, however, did not happen, as the voice of Fleet Admiral Terrence Hood entered the cavernous room via the COM system.

"Cupcakes! Get your weapons and get ready for a fight! This is not a drill! Covenant ships are inbound, I repeat, this is not a drill!" The blast doors hiding the armoury, providing the proof behind the admiral's statement. Phil swore again.

The good thing about working in an armoury was the fact that there was always a hell of a lot of weapons around you. The bad thing was that it also made it a target for anyone who was attacking. Looking around himself, Phil ran over to the weapons locker attached to the wall. The glass covering the guns stated that you should 'break in case of an emergency'. Well, if this wasn't an emergency, Phil wanted to know what what was. He whipped the Magnum pistol that was at his side out, and smashed the glass, backing away to avoid impalation of the shards of falling glass. He covered his face, and only removed the arm protecting his eyes when he heard the last tinkle of glass hitting the steel deck.

He ran forward, and grabbed a Battle Rifle- the BR55. The 'more economical' weapon had replaced the MA5B Assault Weapon in the recent weeks. The Battle Rifle, unlike the MA, was not fully automatic: one squeeze of the trigger fired a three round burst. It also included a scope, but the better technology of the weapon of the weapon hampered the magazine size; it was down from 60 to 32 rounds. Phil had just finishing grabbing ammo, and after slapping a full magazine into his unfired weapon, and shooting once into the deck to make sure it worked, he spun around and got the shock of his life.

_0813 hours, October 1__st__, 2552 (Military Calendar). UNSC High Command Facility (HighCom) Facility Bravo-6, Sydney, Australia, Earth._

Will and Fred filed into a pokey office deep under the earth's crust. Linda entered, still doing her best to apologize to General Strauss for her insult of his private staff. Will and Kelly were still finding it funny, but they masked their expressions as the General entered the room behind Linda. He was a tall man, in the sort of perfect, heavily decorated uniform you would expect from one of the United Nation's Space Corp's most senior officers. The Spartans saluted him, a gesture that Strauss returned.

"At ease. Take a seat, soldiers. We have a lot to discuss."

Linda was eager that the first subject on the agenda would be her continued apologies for insulting the General's private staff. This brief prologue to the meeting proper meant that the other three Spartans had to keep their laughter in check for another two minutes while Strauss and Linda went over a variety of things: Linda apologizing for her behaviour, Strauss telling her it was nothing… it went on. Eventually, a rather annoyed looking General silenced Linda. The cabinet room was mercifully empty: it was a good thing because the man who hated Dr Halsey and her Spartan creations was one of the members. Fred had been dreading meeting him, but thankfully Lieutenant Ackerson was a now show.

"Spartans," General Strauss began. "I am very confused over the situation of events after Reach. I have heard the stories of Sergeant A. J. Johnson, and that of your commanding officer, Master Chief." Fred thought of Master Chief. He'd be in orbit by now; he and Johnson had been taken up via Pelican drop ship in the early hours of the morning. Will, Fred and Linda had all turned out to wave them off. "… and I am to understand that Doctor Halsey abducted one of your number… SPARTAN 0-58." Will and Fred gave terse nods. Linda did, and said nothing.

"In light of this situation, I am dispatching you to a rainforest in Borneo." Will began to make a comment, but a glance from the General silenced the seven-foot Spartan. "Why? Because rumours of a 'green giant' have circulated from there via EIA. We need a team of crack operatives to get down there and apprehend this giant." Strauss paused, his cold eyes digging into Fred's skull. "Can you do that for me?" He asked.

"Yes." Fred replied. What else could he say?"

_1219 Hours, October 1__st__ 2552 (Military Calendar),_ Cairo Space Station's Armoury.

The little creature standing before Phil was blue. And it had an oversized yellow hump protruding from it's back. The shock was enough to cause Phil to drop his Battle Rifle, and most the rounds he had with it. He cursed, before pulling out his Magnum and diving towards the little beggar, who brought a Plasma Pistol up to it's firing position and cracked a single round at Phil. It singed past him, burning a hole in the Gunnery Sergeant's uniform all down his left arm. He brought his right up and shot the little bastard in the head.

His enemy gave a scream as it went down, a bad thing as it turned out. The creature was a Covenant Grunt, and the little aliens never travelled alone. Forgetting about his Battle Rifle, Phil dived behind a few crates that lay in a disorderly pile next to the door. He clenched his sweaty hand around the Magnum's pommel as he heard the strange barks of the methane-breathing aliens, as a small company of them jogged into the room. They gathered around the one Phil had shot and began a frenzied conversation, or at least, that was what Phil thought it was, as they decided what to do. There were three more yellow ones, and one with a red hump. The leader. Phil peered down the sights of his pistol and cracked off a shot.

Major Grunt Gragran nodded to his company of allies and jogged back the way he'd come. The second he moved, a single round from a human firearm whizzed past his hindquarters and thudded into the chest of Lolop. He was sent flying backwards, before hitting the deck, his blue blood running in rivulets across the floor. Gragran gave a loud bark and his two remaining allies headed for cover. Only one of them made it, Lilin going down to another shot from the human. Gragran cursed the day he'd ever joined the Covenants military, as his last squad mate Jajaw crouched behind an overturned crate next to him.

Phil's luck had not been in. Twice he'd aimed for the red midget, and both times he'd hit one of his squaddies. Ah, well. Two dead aliens made his job a bit easier. He thought about going for his Battle Rifle, but decided against it. He'd already had one close shave with the aliens today, and that would be enough, thank you very much. He heard another bark, and a glowing blue ball flew over the crates and arced towards him. A plasma grenade. Great. Phil didn't have any choice. The grenades were adhesive, and once you were tagged, you were dead. So he raised his Magnum and shot the explosive out of the sky.

Gragran gave a happy yelp as he heard the grenade Jajaw had thrown explode. No human could survive a full on hit from a plasma grenade, and this one should be no exception. He waddled in front of his last surviving chance, round the back of the crates, and straight into a Magnum round which pierced his skull between his eyes. The last thing Gragran heard was Jajaw's scream as the final Grunt met a similar fate.

Phil observed the last of the blue blood as it sloshed across the floor of the armoury. He wiped his sweaty forehead on his left sleeve-before remembering it was no longer there. He walked across the deck and picked up his Battle Rifle, holstering the Magnum at his waist. Grabbing his canteen, he took a swig of something a _bit _stronger than water, before walking towards the elevators. This might be his last battle, thought Phil. So I might as well go out with a loud bang. With this in mind, he grabbed a full belt of Fragmentation Grenades.


End file.
